


Barren Branches

by Maggiee24



Category: Original Work
Genre: Obscure plant meanings, Self Loathing, Talk of miscarriages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9920813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiee24/pseuds/Maggiee24
Summary: A heavy sigh fell from her lips unbidden, the bouquet of apple blossoms mocking her from their pride of place upon her desk. How cruel the other ladies could be, all under the guise of wishing her well. She had yet again feigned ill to avoid the other ladies of her station; their judgmental glances and cherub-faced children, twisting the jagged blade already embedded in her heart.





	

A heavy sigh fell from her lips unbidden, the bouquet of apple blossoms mocking her from their pride of place upon her desk. How cruel the other ladies could be, all under the guise of wishing her well. She had yet again feigned ill to avoid the other ladies of her station; their judgmental glances and cherub-faced children, twisting the jagged blade already embedded in her heart.

Oh, how the ladies must chatter about her behind their hands. Married nigh on five years and still without child, the disgrace she represented. With maids and cooks to keep house, what else was the purpose of a wife, but to comfort her husband and bear him heirs? How she failed at that one simple task, a mystery to all.

Not for lack of trying, that was for sure. Mary, herself, was desperate to be round with child. Ached to feel the glow in her skin as she created life; to feel her belly taut over forming flesh, rounded hips dipping further than usual in their stride. To be the simulacrum of fertility. John, no doubt, would be overjoyed to have a symbol of his virility.

They never discussed the absence of little feet pattering down the hallway. Never whispered their prayers aloud as they drifted off to sleep exhausted. John didn't make a big deal out of her shortfall, for which she was glad. Though, it didn't stop her from feeling like she was still a disappointment. What good was she as a woman, and as his wife, if she could not birth his heir?

Nails bit into palms, tiny crescents left in their wake as she fought back hot, angry tears. What good was she? How revolted was her husband in his fruitless wife? Did he damn her, as she damned herself, each day she woke up without the rounding to her belly? She was pathetic. As worthless as the blooms slowly wilting upon her desk.

Why could she not serve her sole purpose? To fall prey to the desires of a man and bear the results. To have her sheer fecundity on display for all to see. There was something wrong with her, she knew. Something she reminded herself every morn that she did not wake to the cries of her child. For even the few times she had fallen pregnant in the past it had always ended in the same way.

_Vivid spots of blood flashed behind her eyes. The sheer pain she felt doubling her over, leaving her gasping through her salty tears. The bathroom tiles came up to greet her, and she lay there prone. Trying to comprehend the pain that she was in. It was like nothing felt before; reminiscent of her moon days, but ten times worse._

_The knowledge of what was happening crept into her mind, the poison slow to spread throughout her body. Slugging through her veins as every beat of her erratic heart pushed it deeper. The understanding worse than any physical pain she felt. Clutching her belly like she could stop what was happening, if only she held on tight enough. Her body working hard against her to dispel the waste inside. All the while she mourned her loss, hiccuped sobs wracked her porcelain frame._

_Hours spent upon the tiles, time passing in abstract as glazed eyes stared into a future that would ever be. Warm brown eyes that would dance in joy while blond curls bounced in time to energetic footsteps. Her voice melodic as she read the requested, ‘one more book!' The mock angry cry of "Papa!" as bubbles burst from cupped palms echoed in her mind. Her child's giggles haunting in their hollowness._

_The shriek of her maid upon her discovery not even skimming the surface of her haze. A billow of sheets engulfed her as she sunk into feathers and cloth. Calloused fingertips of soft hands brushed through her whisper-thin locks of gold, the gesture bringing comfort. Though not nearly enough to ease her ails._  

"I'm sorry dear; I did not realize that you were in here dozing. I just need to grab a book to lend a college then I'll leave you to your peace." Her husband chattered as he rummaged through her book shelves. Peace indeed, if this tortured repetition could be seen as such.

"It's alright my love, take your time." she dutifully replied, careful to smile as she spoke, so that her words carried the merriment she lacked.

Butterflies of razored glass flitted about her stomach. Careless of their path as they bounced around inside her; causing blood to ooze thickly through her stomach like tar. The pain barely touching the sides of what was felt deserved. Why did she get to be such a ‘beautiful' woman if she could not bear a child? It hardly felt right for her external body to be in such ghastly contrast to her disgusting insides.

The urge to bring down her judgement upon herself almost too much to bear. Lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she fought back an urge to maim. To wield her anger as a weapon and turn upon the unsuspecting victim. To exact her revenge on the one who doomed her to such a fate as this. Perpetually wearing circles in the carpet of her mind chasing the same dream, round and round, until she could stand no more.

Eyelids snapped open, allowing her brown orbs to narrow upon the vase of apple blossoms. A single dead flower peeking from the bunch. How she had not seen it before a mystery; placed with such a purposeful delicacy. Rage choked her as she thought of the cackling ladies who'd thought her such a joke. Deserving of such a cruel a gift as this, to separate her from them in such a way.

Cursing her fruitless womb, Mary rose with the grace of a swan and glided across the carpet towards her desk; intent upon disposing of the flowers that only served to mock. Silent tears stained her cheeks as she gathered up the vase and all, quickly moving towards the window. Watching, in distant fascination, as her crystal vase shattered upon the street below. Glass glittering amongst the carnage of stalk and petal. Each bloom, even the one placed as a reminder of her, indistinguishable from the next in their death.

The destruction offered no reprieve from her grief.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.  
> Written for my last English Assignment of High school. The task was to take a well known poem, in my case Sylvia Plath's Lady Lazarus, and draw from in the major emotions/feeling. Which then had to be the core of a new story, I worked with self-loathing and an inability to achieve a goal. I'm quite proud of how this turned out, only slightly because of my harsh ass teacher giving it an A+. 
> 
> Happy Fic Hunting,  
> Maggiee.


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